Baby Lily was breathing peacefully, but she wore only a thin cotton onesie beneath the light blanket.
Ethan removed his coat and laid it gently over the side of the bassinet to block the draft.
“Where’s my mother?” he asked.
Claire wiped her cheeks.
“They went out.”
“All of them?”
She nodded.
“When are they coming back?”Claire looked away.
“January fourth.”
Ethan stared at her.
“January fourth?”
“They left for Cancún this morning.”
For several seconds, he thought he had misunderstood.
Then he opened the refrigerator.
It was almost completely empty.
There was half a bottle of water, a jar of mustard, two ketchup packets, and a single bruised apple.
The freezer had been cleared out.
Every container of soup, chicken, pasta, and stew was gone.
So were the bottles of formula, the yogurt, the vegetables, the juice, and the meal-replacement drinks Claire’s doctor had recommended.Taped to the refrigerator door was a piece of paper written in thick black marker.
Don’t call Ethan. He is working. Don’t create unnecessary drama.
Ethan slowly removed the note.
“Did my mother write this?”
Claire’s silence answered him.
